


The Little Things

by JaneBlack



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot, Porn With Plot, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneBlack/pseuds/JaneBlack
Summary: An examination of David's fall into love with Patrick from David's POV. Follows Schitt's Creek episodes with off-screen encounters of my own creation.This is a companion piece to my fic "Light-Bulb Moment," which is the same storyline from Patrick's POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Dan Levy owns everything recognizable; I just like playing with what he's made :)

David’s had crushes on straight men before, but this one is a doozy.

He walks out of Ray’s real estate office feeling just a little disoriented, his completed incorporation papers in hand. He had glanced at them briefly in the office, but Patrick’s good-natured teasing about David’s numerous voicemails had quickly monopolized his attention. If David is honest with himself, he’s a little embarrassed; Patrick’s business acumen is apparent, and highlights David’s ignorance more than David is comfortable with. The addition of the business agent’s playful smile and straightforward kindness somehow makes it worse. David recounts this most recent interaction in his head and feels his face flush; Patrick’s wholehearted approval of his latest business venture gives him a pleasant shivery feeling in his belly. He isn’t used to caring this much about another person’s opinion of him. Most of the people he’s slept with didn’t matter this much to him, yet here, he’s had all of two conversations with the man and he’s tripping over his words like a schoolgirl.

It occurs to him now to peruse the form he’s received, which awaits only his signature and notarization before being the official means by which he’ll run his own business. David runs his fingers over the edge of the purple folder as he studies Patrick’s small, neat printing, the words at the top jumping out at him and making him flush even more: ROSE APOTHECARY. He smiles to himself. Just pretentious enough. 

He makes it back to the motel and flounces down on his bed. The adjoining rooms are empty. Alexis is gone, either at school or the vet’s office - he’s lost track of where she is these days - Dad is no doubt with Stevie, and he recalls his mother saying something about taking the car to Elmdale for a thing. He pulls out his phone and opens facebook, fishing Patrick’s business card from his pants pocket. He doesn’t make a habit of Facebook stalking, but his curiosity is getting the better of him, and he taps PATRICK BREWER into the Facebook search bar, pausing for just a minute before pressing ‘search.’

And finds nothing.

There are several dozen Patrick Brewers, but none that resembles the one currently residing in Schitt’s Creek. Of the ones without pictures, there aren’t enough coinciding details David knows to be true about his Patrick Brewer (his? really?) for the profile to belong to him. Frustrated, David closes the app and tosses his phone aside. He isn’t sure what he expected to find anyway. Based on Patrick’s appearance, mannerisms, and obvious interest in some organized sport David isn’t familiar with, he’s most likely straight.

Sighing, David rolls off the bed to grab his notebook. Best he focus on his creative endeavors rather than his schoolgirl crush on what was the Schitt’s Creek equivalent of the high school star quarterback. Flipping to his to-do list, he starts jotting down a preliminary list of vendors to contact as soon as he gets his inc form processed.

*************************************

David can feel a tension headache setting in and his business isn’t even open yet.

From where he is in the back room, he can hear Alexis chirping flirtatiously with Patrick as they’re unpacking hand cream out in the front. David is almost finished going through his inventory, and he checks his floor plan for the hundredth time to make sure it looks good and flows logically. He’s constantly wavering between having total confidence in his abilities and being convinced that he’s completely incompetent. Rustling through the plans, he frowns at the one for the shelf in the back corner, already second-guessing the jars of jam and chutney.

“It’s really coming together out there,” a cheerful voice jolts him from his reverie.

Daniel spins around to face Patrick coming through the curtain with an empty box. He tosses it into the pile with the rest of them and then comes to stand next to David, his hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at David’s clipboard. His proximity makes David’s stomach flutter.

His blue shirt brings out his eyes, David notices.

“Thanks,” he says out loud, then looks back down at the clipboard, because the other man’s grin is too much for him to bear at the moment. He doesn’t have the mental energy to compartmentalize the tasks he still needs to get done before opening the store from his Leonardo-DiCaprio-level-cute surprise helper, if Leo had played a manager at a real estate office. Still, David can’t help smiling down at his plans. He looked back up. “Thank you for helping,” he adds quickly. “Alexis is as useful as a hog roast at a bar mitzvah.”

Patrick lifts a shoulder nonchalantly. “She seems happier giving the orders than using her hands. No worries.” He nods his head at the floor plans still in David’s hand. “Is that for the consumables?”

David nods, handing Patrick the clipboard. “It made sense when I made it, but now I’m thinking food should be closer to the front.” He gestured into the air. “You know, to give all the international foodies around here feel welcome as soon as they come in.”

The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on Patrick, who chuckles and flips through a couple of the pages before handing the clipboard back to David. “I think it looks great. And hey, if you find out it’s not working later, you can just shift things around a little.”

David nods, an ironic grin spreading across his face. “I don’t suppose you’ll be around to act as my pack horse then, will you?” he asks, his eyebrows raised comically. He expects Patrick to laugh it off in the interest of avoiding further Rose-related commitments.

Patrick shocks him. “Of course, man,” he says earnestly. “Anytime.”

David swallows and has trouble making eye contact. “Well, then,” he says. He wants to say thank you, but he’s already said that several times today, and he’s afraid Patrick will stop believing that he actually does feel immense gratitude for all of his help.

Luckily, Patrick doesn’t seem to expect any further placations. “Hey, your boxes are all unpacked, so you’re in a good spot for today.” He claps David amicably on the back. “I’ve gotta get back to the office, but let me know if you need anything else. Paperwork or otherwise.”

David nods. “Thank you,” he says finally, because he really can’t think of anything else, and watches the man depart.


	2. Chapter 2

David’s stomach feels queasy, and David blames Alexis. She is, after all, the one who keeps stoking David’s hopes about Patrick’s sexuality.

Rationally, David knows he’s probably straight. He’s an actual epitome of male straightness. Lifts weights at the gym, wears button-up shirts with mid-range denim, loves baseball (David finally figures out), and spends most of his time looking at spreadsheets. David is the most open-minded person he knows when it comes to gender roles and sexuality, so he feels bad for relying on stereotypes to guide his reasoning, but the fact is that he’s just not getting a queer vibe from Patrick. 

David has gotten into the habit of reminding himself of these things every time he sees Patrick, if only just to quash the simmering attraction he’s started to feel for the man. Usually he’s fairly successful at acting normal, even professional. There’s no point, after all, in entertaining fantasies about a guy who will never entertain the same kind of fantasies. Professional is the best he can muster.

So when Patrick comes into the store unexpectedly, just a day after dropping off David’s brand-new business license, David is just a little put-out. He assumes the worst - that something is wrong with his license - or the most annoying - that Patrick is hoping to run into his sister. 

But Patrick keeps leaving him just a tad bit speechless. Offering to invest in his business is not an exception to the long string of very generous offers he’s made lately. If David didn’t know better, he’d assume Patrick is trying to woo him.

“Oh, I’m gonna get the money,” he’s saying, with a finality that David can’t find a response to immediately.

Patrick’s confidence in that statement - in fact, his confidence in general - is one of the things David finds so infuriatingly attractive about him. The calm, uncomplicated and complete belief in his abilities, made Patrick that much more untouchable to David. Moreover, David knows that Patrick’s confidence is completely founded. He’s smart. David is smart too, in an aloof, creative way that gets one into European art schools, but Patrick is smart in the practical way that everyday people notice and appreciate. 

David is unreasonably and inexplicably intimidated by this. 

“Oh,” he says after a moment. “Okay.” 

Patrick nods, encouraged. “Can I come back tomorrow? I probably have most of the information I need to finish writing a grant or two, but there will be some justification required and I’d like your input.”

“Of course,” David says. “Ah, I’ll be around from, like, ten a.m. through the evening, probably.”

“I’ll text you,” Patrick says, grinning. “Don’t worry, I’ll write in a new frame for your business license.” 

David smiles and holds out his hand. “Thank you,” he says, because apparently that’s all he says these days.

Patrick takes his hand and shakes it, his grip firm, and David genuinely has a hard time pulling his hand away. 

*************************************

The kiss, as kisses go, is pretty mundane.

Except it’s not, David realizes, even in the midst of pressing his lips to Patrick’s, curling his fingers gently around the back of his head. Things are riding on this kiss. David likes Patrick. More importantly, David respects him. David thinks about him in ways that have nothing to do with what’s going on in his pants. Even if Patrick decides this isn’t a good idea, David still wants to see him every day. He still wants to talk to him, to run a business with him, to have a friendship with him.

So David kisses him, at the same time acutely aware of a vulnerability he’s never felt before. For the first time in his life, he could kiss someone and it could go wrong. It could mess things up in ways that David doesn’t want to think about.

Undeniably, though, David wants this kiss to be followed by many, many more. Whether he’ll admit that to anyone is unclear.

They break apart, and for the first time David can remember, Patrick thanks him.

He blinks. “For what?” he says, confused.

“Um, I’ve never done that before,” Patrick admits. “With a guy.”

David, for all his prior musings about Patrick’s probable heterosexuality, is actually blindsided. He had, after all, asked David out on a date. He had dressed up and brought him a gift. David had spent most of dinner after Stevie left assuming that Patrick was gay or bi, that he’d dated men before, and that he was just so personally entrenched in whatever mid-continent suburban culture he’d been raised in that he didn’t read as queer. None of these things are a problem for David, so he hadn’t really thought much about it.

“Okay,” he says after a moment, processing the fact that Patrick has chosen him for his first homosexual romantic experience. An edge of apprehension begins to make its way into his chest. He’s had enough of curious straight guys using him, but he also knows Patrick well enough to know, he hopes, that isn’t his intention.

Patrick is continuing. “I was getting a little scared that I’d let you leave here without us having done that… so thank you for making that happen for us.”

That does not sound like experimenting to David. That sounds like premeditation.

“Well, um, fortunately, I am a very generous person,” David quips, and Patrick smiles bashfully. 

“Can we talk tomorrow?” he asks, and David smiles.

“Yeah,” he promises. “We can talk whenever you’d like.”

There is exactly one kind of relationship that David Rose has not had. To be sure, he’s slept with men who like men, women who like men, and people who like people. He’s had straight men experiment with him. He’s had gay women experiment with him. He’s dated a great many people from all over the queer spectrum, all of whom he’s found fascinating, beautiful, and enthralling in some way, shape or form.

He has not, however, had a meaningful connection, sexual or otherwise, with a man on the cusp of discovering that his true orientation is probably different than he has previously assumed. Patrick, David is realizing, is one such person. David has the impression that he’s dated women from brief mentions of snippets of conversations, but here he is, on a date with David that he initiated, in a lovely suit, accepting a kiss from a man for the first time in his life and thanking him for it. David can truly empathize with the enormity of Patrick’s personal struggle and revelations from the moment they met leading up to tonight, and he has every intention of being supportive and open-minded as he can be. 

After securing a promise that Patrick wouldn’t wake him before ten a.m., David gets out of the car. As he looks back, he notes Patrick’s smile.


	3. Chapter 3

“Lock it up, David,” Patrick insists, pulling David into a kiss as they sit in Stevie’s empty apartment.

David can’t help but laugh into the kiss. He had, after all, riled up Patrick with his insistence that Stevie admit her wrongdoing - insistence which he fully intends on continuing the next time he sees her - but everyone has a dating history, and he’s sure that Patrick will share sordid details with him about denying his sexuality at another time.

For now, David is intent on helping Patrick explore his sexuality, to the extent that he’s comfortable with it.

Their kiss deepens for several moments before they break apart, and David takes the opportunity to kiss his way to Patrick’s ear via his jawline so he could murmur, “I’m up for whatever you’re up for.”

Patrick’s gulp is audible. “O-okay,” he stammers, suddenly appearing less sure of himself, and David slides their fingers together, their palms pressed flat, and looks in his partner’s eyes.

“I mean it,” he says. “We can do whatever you’re ready for, and nothing more.”

Patrick nods. “Well,” he says, “I think I’ve pretty well established I like kissing you.”

“Good!” David says, pulling away and bouncing backwards onto the bed, landing on his back with his head on a pillow. He grins and gives a seductive little wiggle before beckoning to Patrick with both hands. “Let’s do more of that.”

Patrick returns his grin, crawling on his hands and knees onto the bed to position himself above David. He settles with a hip on the bed so he’s halfway lying on top of David, and David slips his arms around him, reveling in the warmth of his body and the softness of his blue sweater which had made David swoon the first time he’d seen him in it. Patrick cups David’s face and kisses him again, softly and with purpose, sliding his tongue into David’s mouth and probing gently.

The kisses really are something, and David isn’t one to complain about something as sensual as this, but his body soon betrays just how sensual he finds Patrick’s kisses. He feels his erection growing and shifts a little to ease the pressure his pants are putting on his crotch. His adjustment momentarily presses his hard cock against Patrick’s thigh, and Patrick’s shaky exhale is positively x-rated.

David has always sensed apprehension on Patrick’s part when they’ve been making out in the store or at Ray’s and things got heated. He assumes it’s a combination of the fear of getting caught en flagrante with the bashfulness of being very recently out of the closet. However, here, with closed, locked doors and several walls between them and the rest of world, his apprehension quickly wanes. Patrick accommodates David’s comfort-seeking fidgeting by moving completely on top of him, covering him with his blue warmth and wedging one of his thighs between David’s. The result is additional pressure on David’s erection and the distinct impression of Patrick’s own hardness pressing against him.

David is nearly overwhelmed with the sudden intimacy of it all. Nearly. It’s his turn to sigh as Patrick’s mouth moves down his jaw, neck, and throat. David’s hands move of their own accord, sliding up over Patrick’s shoulders and down his back before sliding around the hem of his shirt, his fingers making contact with the bare skin of his waist.

Patrick pulls away suddenly, and David is fearful that maybe he’s crossed a line. His fear quickly turns to delight as Patrick sits up on his knees, still straddling one of David’s legs, and reaches over behind his head to pull his sweater and t-shirt off in one fluid motion.

David’s mouth goes dry. This marks several weeks of dating and the first time either of them has been in any way unclothed. It’s shocking in the absolute best way possible, Patrick’s comfort and nonchalance in disrobing in front of him and the resulting absolutely beautiful sight David currently beholds.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he reaches up to flatten his other hand on Patrick’s chest, over his heart, feeling his rapid heartbeat. Reveling in his smooth skin, he slides his hand down to his stomach, using his fingers to trace the muscle definition at his obliques, and Patrick’s abdomen trembles just a little. He’s athletic, muscular and toned due to hard work in the gym and attention to his health, and it shows. Patrick inhales as David touches him and David meets his eyes, noting the mixture of arousal and uncertainty.

“Still kissing?” he asks gently, and Patrick shakes his head, tugging at David’s sweatshirt and taking a breath before saying, “Yours too.” David shucks the shirt immediately and rather unceremoniously, and it’s barely hit the floor before Patrick is touching him, running his hands up and down David’s bare chest in a passionate rendition of David’s earlier attentions. 

David studies Patrick’s face as Patrick explores his body. His expression is intense, aroused, and heartbreakingly fragile, as if he’s doing something he’s dreamt of forever but isn’t quite sure he’s allowed to do. David has the sudden, overwhelming need to reassure him that everything he wants is absolutely allowed and correct. He runs his hands up Patrick’s arms, over his shoulders, cups his face, brings him back down for a sweet kiss, and Patrick lays his body over David’s, their bare chests fusing. He wriggles a bit and now his hips are cradled between David’s, so David can bring one knee up to wind around his waist. Their kisses become urgent, heated, and David can’t stop the lift of his hips as he grinds upward. Patrick’s receptive, a returning the pressure with a strangled noise that goes straight to David’s groin, and then David’s fingers are tightening their grip on the hold they have on his shoulders as the two of them thrust into each other slowly, their erections flush against each other through their pants.

David suddenly hates all pants. He wishes they no longer existed. However, he doesn’t want to scare away his newly-out lover by banishing his jeans in this moment. Luckily, Patrick has a similar idea. Lifting himself off David and sitting back on his heels, his hands drop to David’s waist, working at his belt as he meets his gaze. 

“Can I-?” he asks, and David nods vigorously.

“Yes,” he answers, rather breathless. “Yes.”

His belt is gone, the hindrance that it is, and Patrick is unbuttoning his fly with a maddening slowness, his face the picture of concentration and wonder. He pulls the zipper down carefully, mindful of David’s erection, then slides his fingers underneath his waistband. David lifts his hips and Patrick pulls his jeans down off his thighs, his knees, tugging at the tight legs to peel them from his calves, until finally he divests David of the garment completely and it joins his shirt on the floor.

He slides his hands up David’s thighs and David focuses on breathing.

Patrick meets his eyes, the apprehension lessened but still there. “I’m kind of just winging it here,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

David smiles, trying to assuage his fears. “Doing great so far,” he assures him, and Patrick smiles back, falling on the bed on his side next to David. He looks David up and down, trailing his fingers over various parts of him, tracing the the waistband of his underwear. In nothing but his boxer briefs, David is far more exposed than his partner, but he doesn’t mind. Not at all. If this kind of exploration is what Patrick needs to feel comfortable being in bed with him, more power to him. David is very accommodating when he wants to be, and he most definitely wants to be accommodating right now.

David isn’t surprised when Patrick leans in to kiss him, but he does get a shock when he feels a hand slip under the waistband of his underwear to wrap around his erection. He can’t keep the muffled whimper from escaping the kiss. He feels Patrick grin, and though he’s mostly naked, he feels altogether too clothed. He takes his hands from where they’re gripping Patrick’s shoulders and pushes his underwear down and off.

The look on Patrick’s face is something David wants framed and hung on his wall. He’s gazing at him in a way David has never been looked at before. David knows he’s nice to look at; he spends a fair amount of time at the gym himself. Still, Patrick’s appreciation is tantamount to how much he’s going to enjoy using his body to have fun with Patrick, so David is relieved that the reviews seem to be in his favor. 

Patrick slips his hand between David’s legs, cupping his balls, almost experimentally rather than lustfully, before returning his hand to David’s fairly engorged shaft and squeezing gently. 

David squeaks.

Patrick pulls his head away to look at him, but keeps his hand exactly where it is. “Okay?” he asks, worried. “I wish we had -”

David nods vigorously. “Yes - here -” he rolls over the side of the bed to fish into his pants pocket, retrieving the small bottle of lube he’d brought with him with high hopes, and presses it into Patrick’s open hand. “If you don’t mind.”

Patrick’s smile reaches his heart. “Gladly,” he says, dispensing some of the clear liquid into his palm, and resumes his activity.

Truth be told, David has had better handjobs. Yet somehow, in some way, this is the most perfect intimate experience he’s had with anyone to date. Patrick is adept in his movements, likely due to plenty of practice on himself, and he happily makes adjustments according to David’s whimpered instructions. David can’t help the canting of his hips as Patrick works his cock, the way his abdomen draws taught as he draws nearer to completion, and he when he finally comes he buries his face in the crook of Patrick’s neck to muffle his moans.

He relaxes into the bed for a moment, fully intending to return this favor as soon as he recovers a bit of his strength, and limply drapes his arm around Patrick’s waist. He’s made a mess of the both of them, but he can’t be bothered at the moment to do anything about it. Patrick grins down at him.

David has to ask. “So how do you feel about what you’ve learned so far?” he says with a smirk.

Patrick snorts. “I’m pretty sure I’ve learned that I’m definitely gay,” he retorts dryly, leaning in to kiss David soundly on the mouth.

Warmth blossoms in David’s chest.

“I want to make you come,” he states matter-of-factly, because it’s true, and he’s rewarded with a flattering blush that spreads across his lover’s face. He cleans them both off quickly with a wad of tissues from the nightstand.

Patrick nods. “Y-yeah, okay,” he says, a little breathlessly, and David would wonder about his conviction, except the next thing he knows, Patrick is unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off onto the floor. Soon he’s lying there in nothing but his plaid cotton boxers - really, David can’t think of a more heterosexual underwear-related look - and running his fingers nervously through his hair. “Um,” he says falteringly. 

David kneels between his legs. “Don’t worry,” he says. “Leave it to me.”

He starts by kissing Patrick on the mouth, moving down to his neck, then his chest. He uses his hands to guide his way, palpating the sculpted muscles of his abdomen before tonguing his way to his navel. David finds Patrick’s increased breathing immensely satisfying, the trembling of his stomach thrilling. Once he’s eye-level with Patrick’s crotch, he looks up to make eye contact before hooking his fingers into the elastic of the shorts and pulling them down. 

Patrick lets him undress him fully, the blush a steadfast feature across his nose, cheeks, and down his chest. David wants to keep the blush there, and decides the best way to do that is very salaciously lick the underside of his cock. Patrick’s head drops to the pillow as he groans. Encouraged, David pulls his entire cock into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Patrick yelps, unable to stop the jerk of his hips into David’s face. David smiles. He’s willing to bet Patrick has never had a blowjob as good as the one he’s about to get. He begins in earnest, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks, making patterns with his tongue on the velvety skin of the most beautiful cock he’s ever encountered in his life. Patrick is making the sexiest noises he’s ever heard, and David is almost glad he’s already come, because he knows that if he’d been any more aroused he’d have trouble keeping himself from begging Patrick to fuck him, and David’s not sure Patrick is ready to be faced with that decision yet.

David’s not sure whether he’s ready for it either. Not when it means so much.

He swallows all of Patrick’s come when he orgasms. He can’t not. He wants Patrick to belong to him, to belong with him, and to be in his bed on a regular basis. As Patrick’s hips raise rhythmically from the bed, his hoarse moans obscuring any words he’s trying to say, David swallows him down, because at this point in his life, it’s how he knows how to communicate what he wants.

Once he’s finished, David slides his lips off of his softening cock and looks up at him. Patrick manages a tired grin. He looks utterly destroyed.

David hopes that means he’s here to stay, even if it’s just for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

_“You're the best, better than all the rest_  
_Better than anyone, anyone I ever met_  
_I'm stuck on your heart_  
_I hang on every word you say_  
_Tear us apart_  
_Baby I would rather be dead_  
_Oh, you're the best.”_  


Patrick strums the last chord and smiles softly at David over the small crowd of applauding people. 

David is realizing that he’s going to have to get used to feeling sensations in his body that he’s never felt felt before, because the tendrils of tingly warmth in his chest are bringing tears to his eyes. If he wasn’t such a picture of self-composure in general, he’d be crying. He’s mentioned to Patrick offhand that it was one of his favorite song, when it comes on the radio or on his Pandora playlist, but never in a million years had he expected his boyfriend to use that information to add even more substantial cracks to David’s very carefully-constructed shield of indifference he’s cultivated so carefully throughout his adulthood.

The rest of the night passes in somewhat of a haze. David half-listens to the rest of the performers - not that he’d call them that under any other circumstances. He works through the initial influx of feelings and manages to wrangle them down into the small, steady warmth that now lives in his chest and stirs whenever Patrick talks, or moves, or stands next to David, or looks at him.

As the last customer files out of the store with a wave, David busies himself with the cash as Patrick is packing up the sound equipment he’d borrowed from the local high school. David smiles at him from across the room and comes out from behind the counter to lock the front door.

“So that was pretty painless, right?” Patrick calls over, wrapping up the last of the cords.

Adorable.

“Okay,” David begrudgingly agrees, “I mean, Bob’s beat poetry left a lot to be desired -” Patrick is approaching him, having finished with the equipment, and David holds his arms out, “- but I suppose if, um, you -” he taps his fingers on Patrick’s chest as Patrick’s arms slide around his waist “- were to headline every time, I wouldn’t say no to another open mic night.” 

The smug grin on Patrick’s face is almost enough to make David rescind everything he’s just said. “Surprised at my good taste?” he asks cheekily, pecking David on the lips.

“Shocked, really,” David answers honestly. “I was expecting something by Nickelback or Kings of Leon.”

Patrick mocks an aghast expression. “How can you think I’d do that to you?”

“I wasn’t actually thinking you’d do it on purpose,” David supplies, leaning in for another kiss, and Patrick scoffs.

Okay, so David needs to use his words now, because he might be on the verge of actually offending Patrick. He holds Patrick’s chin with his hand and looks into his eyes, letting the feelings that the serenade had generated show on his face. “It was lovely,” David says truthfully. “Really.”

Patrick’s face relaxes into a smile. “And to think you started the night only eighty-seven percent behind me.”

David curls his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and brings him into an embrace. “I’m at, like, ninety-two percent now, easily.”

“Mm,” Patrick murmurs. He places a kiss on David’s neck just below his ear. “Anything I can do for extra credit?”

Tingles begin to simmer low in David’s belly. “Do you think we can sneak into your place without Ray hearing us?” he asks hopefully.

Patrick grins against his neck. “He texted me earlier, he left today for a conference.” He pulls back and looks meaningfully into David’s eyes. “He’ll be gone til Friday.”

The simmering in David’s stomach increases to a rolling boil. He does his best to scale back his reaction. They had not been alone for a long period of time since Stevie’s. They’d had one evening at Ray’s while he was out at a dinner, and a quick night at the hotel when David’s family were fortuitously absent all at once. The encounters, while pleasant and satisfying, had the possibility of being interrupted pressing down on them. David knows it’s not the ideal situation for a budding relationship, especially one with dynamics that Patrick isn’t necessarily accustomed to, and he’s spent the last couple weeks desperately wracking his brain for a possible solution.

So the news that they’d have two entire nights to themselves threatens to propel David into uncharacteristically high spirits, but he needs to gauge Patrick’s reaction. He has no interest in pressuring him to fulfill any of David’s desires he’s not ready for.

“Stay over tonight?” Patrick asks, a little tentatively, the look on his face open and earnest. 

David nods. “Absolutely,” he says. He can’t prevent the playful smirk from gracing his face, and Patrick returns it with a grin.

The drive back to Ray’s is only five minutes long, but it’s five minutes of silence loaded with the question of what is to come. Truth be told, David would like very much to have sex with Patrick daily. His sex drive has always been rather prolific. But their situation simply didn’t allow it, plus Patrick’s still-fresh processing of his own sexual orientation is cause for David to be far more conscious of his actions than he’s ever been.

Now, from the passenger seat of Patrick’s car, he reaches over and squeezes Patrick’s knee. It’s an automatic, almost mindless reaction to David’s feelings for him, to his desire to be closer to him. Patrick smiles as he pulls into the driveway, shutting off the car and looking over at David.

“This feels familiar,” he says, obviously recalling their first date.

“Mm,” David agrees. “The difference being, of course, that I definitely plan on taking your pants off tonight, whereas I would not have offered to do that on that particular evening.”

Patrick grins widely. “Your pants are coming off too, sir.” He gets out of the car, fiddling with his house keys. David climbs out as well and prances behind him like an overgrown housecat, managing to wait until Patrick is unlocking the door before gripping him at the waist and bumping his chest into Patrick’s back. Patrick laughs delightedly.

“One-hundred percent,” David insists breathlessly, pouncing on Patrick and covering his face with kisses as soon as they’re in with the front door closed behind them. “I’m one-hundred percent behind you.”

Patrick is still laughing. “Glad to hear my reviews are coming back favorable,” he says between kisses, ushering David up the stairs to his room. David takes them two at a time, reaching Patrick’s bedroom first, bursting inside and turning on the bedside lamp. The room is clean, as Patrick is fairly tidy and doesn’t have much in the way of possessions. David flounces down onto the bed and crosses his ankles, leaning up on one elbow. Patrick shuts the door and perches on the edge of the bed next to him.

They look at each other, and David reaches up and traces Patrick’s shoulder blades through his shirt. Blue really is his color. He presses his fingertips down into the smooth cotton and runs his fingers down Patrick’s spine, slowly, feeling each individual vertebra. He reaches the waistband of his jeans, but doesn’t go farther, simply flattening his palm and moving his hand back up in a caress. He gets to Patrick’s neck and rubs gently.  


Patrick swallows. His hands are clasped rather tightly. “I want you all the time,” he stammers, in the adorable faltering way he does when he’s admitting to something particularly gay. David finds it hopelessly endearing.

“Me too,” David murmurs, leaning up to kiss him.

Patrick isn’t finished. “I mean all the time,” he whispers hoarsely as they break the kiss. “We’re just - not alone enough -” he breaks off and exhales, and David recognizes the tone of desperation creeping into his voice, because it’s the same desperation he feels on a fairly regular basis when he’s trying not to think about cornering Patrick in the back room and tearing his clothes off.

“We are now,” he says evenly, and pulls Patrick down onto the bed with him. “Tell me what you want.”

A characteristic blush spreads over Patrick’s face. “I want to go down on you,” he admits quickly, hiding his face in David’s neck.

The confession shoots through David’s chest, stomach, and straight to his groin. His brain stutters to a halt and he has trouble finding words. Since the night at Stevie’s, they’d pretty much only delved into handjobs and dry-humping, what with the constant threat of being discovered. Not that he hasn’t fantasized about having Patrick in a number of other more intimate ways.

“David?” Patrick, his face still in David’s neck, sounds heartbreakingly insecure, and David realizes he hasn’t responded yet.

“Sorry,” David says quickly. “I’m just, um, committing this moment to memory forever so I can use it when you aren’t around.” Nothing like admitting to having a mental spank-bank of your boyfriend.

David cups Patrick’s face in his hands and lifts him out of his neck so he can look at him. If possible, the flush on Patrick’s face increases. David wonders how he’s going to get an erection with all the blood in his cheeks and neck.

“This probably goes without saying,” Patrick continues, “but since you’re the only guy I’ve ever been with, obviously, I’ve never - I mean, I want it to be -”

David gives him a peck on the lips. “You’ll be great,” he reassures him. “Doing what you like is a good start.”

Patrick nods, the blush finally receding a little. They’re lying very close together on the bed now, their hips flush. They’re both semi-hard.

David sits up for a moment to remove his sweatshirt, then, thinking for a moment longer, stands up and takes his jeans off too. Patrick watches him, his expression melting into affection and arousal, and he moves to sit at the edge of the bed, catching David’s waist and bringing David closer to him.

“Let me,” he murmurs, slipping his fingers into David’s briefs and pulling them down. They fall around his ankles and David kicks them away.

Now he’s standing naked in front of his partner, who’s still completely clothed, and for some reason David assumes is completely perverse, he find this incredibly arousing. He’s even more aroused by Patrick trailing his hands down over his ass and squeezing. The brush of his cotton shirt against bare skin sends thrills through his body.

Then Patrick pulls David’s groin close to his face and rubs his cheek against David’s erection, and David literally can’t physically stop his eyes from rolling back into his head with pleasure.

This emboldens Patrick, it seems, and he licks his lips, wetting them. Perfect. He grasps the base of David’s cock and looks up at him. All David can do is nod wordlessly. 

From Patrick’s first experimental lick on the head of his cock, to the more confident way he’s taken into his partner’s mouth, David funnels his energy into tightly controlling his breathing and his body. It’s all he can do to keep from thrusting fully into Patrick’s face. He puts his hands on his shoulders to steady himself, because his legs are quaking just a little, and whimpers as Patrick reaches down to cup his balls. 

Patrick slides his mouth off. “Good?” he asks breathlessly, and David just nods vigorously. Patrick licks a wet line all the way up from the base of his cock to the underside of the tip, and David nearly falls over.

“Oh,” he says, a little desperately.

Patrick looks at him. “Put your hands on my head,” he insists.

David, incapable at this moment of denying Patrick anything, complies, and is taken into his lover’s mouth once more as Patrick resumes in earnest.

He lets up a little on the self-control. He meets Patrick’s movements, thrusting shallowly into his mouth, his fingers in his hair, holding his head but not controlling it. The coil of tension at his spine simmers as Patrick learns the movements, responding to David’s noises, some of which are almost words. His controlled breathing soon turns to panting and gasping, his toes digging into the carpet as Patrick learns where he should press his tongue for maximum effect. “I’m going to come,” David chokes out, too soon. Too soon. He expects Patrick to pull away.  
Instead, Patrick bears down, massaging the head of his cock with his tongue against his soft palate. 

The tension in David’s body is released in the most intensely pleasurable orgasm he’s ever had, bar none. He groans, his hips moving automatically in time with the hot spurts that Patrick is now swallowing down, and as the tension wanes, his legs are trembling. He’s afraid he’ll fall over, except Patrick is gripping his waist, steadying him as he pulls his head back, smiling.

“Good?” he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Take your clothes off and lie down,” David commands, pointing at the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last installment for at least a few days; I'm studying for a test so I've got to focus on that for a bit. Don't worry - more to come! I'm now estimating 7-8 chapters in total and have a lot written; it just needs tightening up.
> 
> Constructive feedback is always appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

It occurs to David, in a rather cruelly poetic way, that his sense of foreboding about the cookie, the barbecue and all of their associated implications had been entirely correct. Fate had ruled against him.

The tile of the hotel room’s bathroom floor is hard and cold under his back. He’d been there for about twenty minutes, lying on the floor, staring at the ugly ceiling and listening to the drip of the water from the bathtub faucet. He’d thrown up the food that Stevie had brought him shortly after he’d eaten it. Not on purpose; he simply managed to roll the entire heart-wrenching conversation with Patrick over in his mind so many times that his stomach apparently followed suit and expelled his dinner in a burst of nausea. After flushing the toilet and rinsing his mouth out, he’d lacked the energy or fucks-given to trudge back into the bedroom and climb into his bed.

David cannot remember a time when he’s felt more painful despair in his chest than he does in this moment. He’s utterly raw. The sudden emergence of Patrick’s past love life has torn open every old wound he’s been stitching up and licking clean for the past four months. For all the times David has been betrayed by lovers, this time has incapacitated him.

Tears are flowing down his face. His breathing is shallow. He feels like he’s dying. He misses Patrick desperately, and he hates himself for it.

He thinks about Rachel. Rachel, the woman whom Patrick had apparently promised to spend the rest of his life with, had been very pretty. Beautiful, even, in a country-wholesome kind of way. He’d spent approximately five seconds in her presence, and had managed in that time to deduce that she was the exact opposite of David in every way: fair-skinned with russet hair, petite and slender, soft-spoken and kind.

 _A woman_ , David thinks miserably. 

Simmering inside of him beside the anger, sadness, and betrayal is jealousy, something he’s experienced very little prior to this. This lovely woman had been Patrick’s partner during the formative years of his life. She’d lived with him, shared meals with him, shared a bed with him, for _years_. They had all the intimate advantages of knowing one another since they were young, and it tears David apart inside to think that she still has those advantages over him. 

Truth be told, a small part of David has been waiting for this shoe to drop since the first time he’d kissed Patrick. Now, in the shadow of someone who has had so much more of Patrick than he has, David recognizes how woefully inadequate he is. How is it, he wonders, that Patrick had convinced himself to pursue David, to kiss him and spend time with him and sleep with him? How many days will it take Patrick to realize the stupid mistake he’s made with David Rose, and return to the woman who’d been his lover for over a decade and recently his betrothed? How long until David is just a silly fling in the rearview mirror as Patrick moves forward to build a life with someone who deserves him?

The more David ruminates, the more he realizes that this was to be the end of it, all along. The match they’d made had been too blindingly perfect, their relationship too brightly wonderful, not to burn from both ends.

The tears on his face now dry, David climbs up off of the bathroom floor, walks into his bedroom, and pulls his clothes off. He crawls into bed and pulls the covers over his head. It’s only eight-thirty, but he’s emotionally exhausted, and knows that if he closes his eyes now he can probably sleep. He’s about to drift off when his phone pings from the bedside table.

He sighs, picking it up and tapping open the text message.

PATRICK

I know you need space. I just need you to know that I want to be with you. I’m here when you’re ready to talk.

David manages a deep shuddering breath before the tears start again.

*************************************

“I have something to show you,” Stevie says.

David is emerging from their spa bathroom, having rinsed his facial mask and changed into pajamas, and is applying moisturizer. He glances at Stevie, still in her fluffy white robe, lounging on the bed and scrolling through her phone.

“If it’s that picture of the puppy with hearts for eyes, I’m not interested,” he says. Alexis had sent him that one earlier.

“So I went to an open mic night Thursday night,” Stevie says conversationally, but with a non-zero amount of ulterior motive coloring her tone. “With Jake. Up in Pierson.”

David looks at her, a little apprehensive. He can’t imagine where this is going. He briefly wonders how she spent nearly thirty minutes alone in a car with Jake without going insane. What had they talked about? “Sounds horrifying,” he says, dropping onto the bed next to her and grabbing the TV remote.

“Patrick was there.”

David’s heart jolts at the mention of Patrick’s name. David misses him terribly. He misses laughing at their shared jokes. He misses the way he smells in the morning right out of the shower. He misses how smart he is, how he’s not afraid to tell David when he’s being ridiculous, and how it feels to hold his hand. Stevie has all but convinced him to talk to Patrick as soon as tomorrow.

“Oh?” He feigns nonchalance. “What, um. Did you- did he say anything about me, or -?”

Stevie shook her head. “We couldn’t talk to him. He was playing. On stage.” She selects something on her phone and hands it to David. “Press play.”

“On- on stage?” he asks. He taps the play button on Stevie’s phone.

The video is dark and blurry. It’s in a dive bar in Pierson that David’s been to once with Stevie, when their local watering hole was closed due to plumbing issues. When they had been there, the stage had been empty and there had been all of eight people in the bar; in the video, it was outfitted for sound and the place seated at least a couple dozen patrons watching what was happening in stage. 

In the center of the video, a figure that is clearly Patrick perches on a stool with his guitar, strumming familiar-sounding chords. As he breaks through the intro, David recognizes the song.

_”Love isn’t all that it seems_  
_I did you wrong_  
_I’ll stay here with you_  
_Until this dream is done_

_I’ve been sleepwalking_  
_I’ve been wandering all night_  
_Trying to take what’s lost and broke_  
_and make it right_  
_I’ve been sleepwalking_  
_Too close to the fire_  
_But it’s the only place that I can hold you tight_

_In this burning house”_

The video ends there. David hands Stevie’s phone back to her. She looks at him expectantly.

“What?” he demands stubbornly. He’s feeling put on the spot. 

“You know he sang that for you,” she states matter-of-factly.

“I wasn’t even there!” David exclaims, throwing his arms out dramatically.

“David,” Stevie says slowly, “you know Patrick is always singing for you, right?”

David lays down on the bed. 

Since their open mic night, Patrick had serenaded him several more times in private, both with love songs from favorite performers and one or two of Patrick’s own creation. David finds it both technically impressive and incredibly romantic. It’s yet another level of romance that is strange and new to David. He’d felt himself flush at the gesture more than once. 

This song, however, has eased the heartache inside of him a little, and David recognizes now that if Patrick had felt so compelled to sing in front of strangers that he’d driven half an hour to perform at a dive bar in Pierson, that maybe Patrick misses David just as much as David was missing him.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he resolves, pulling on his sleep mask.

He can feel Stevie grinning at him.

*************************************

_I hang on every word you say_  
_Tear us apart_  
_Baby I would rather be dead_  
_Oh you're the best_

The final chords of the electric guitar sound out through the store, and David lands on his knees in front of Patrick, hands gripping Patrick’s thighs. He’s panting a little from exertion, his interpretive dance having lasted the duration of the song. He looks up at Patrick.

“I made that up when I was fourteen,” he explains. “I’ve never showed it to anyone.” 

Patrick is laughing so hard he’s crying. “That was,” he gasps, “the most amazingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He links his hands loosely around David’s neck.

David feigns modesty. “Well, I know that’s not true,” he says, “but that’s very kind and thank you for saying so.” Honestly, he couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction.

He leans his forehead against Patrick’s, sliding his fingers into his hair. Patrick’s arms tighten a little around David’s shoulders. They look at one another for a few moments, and David realizes in a slow, all-consuming wave how much he’s missed Patrick. A week with no contact was too much. Being here in his arms now, with the promise of making amends in their very near future, David feels the terrible tightness in his chest that he’s lived with for the past week begin to unfurl.

Patrick reaches up and straightens a lock of David’s hair that has come loose from his normally perfect coiff. He trails his thumb down the bridge of David’s nose, over his Cupid’s bow, down to trace his lower lip, his chin, his jawline. His expression is one of affection and amusement, and David tightens his arms around his lover just a little. His heart aches with overwhelming relief.

His dance has pushed him to a point of vulnerability he’s not accustomed to. The words bubble up out of him before he has a chance to check himself. “I missed you so much,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Patrick smiles, and there’s no trace of irony or anger. “I missed you too,” he says earnestly. “And I am really sorry about not telling you about Rachel sooner, I just -” 

David shakes his head. “Don’t. Don’t apologize anymore.” He winds his arms around Patrick’s neck.

He kisses Patrick with all of the ferocity generated by being without him. Patrick kisses him back, and David feels the same intensity in the way he slides his mouth over David’s, stroking with his tongue and tightening his fingers around the back of his head. Their kiss deepens, Patrick sliding forward in his chair to trap David’s waist between his knees, and David slides his hands over Patrick’s shoulders and up his back.

They break apart. David breathes and leans his forehead against Patrick’s.

“I do have one more thing to give you,” Patrick says, smiling softly.

David winces. Contrary to what the past week has indicated, he really has no intention of taking advantage of Patrick’s generosity. “Ah, that’s really not necessary. Also, I’m out of dances, so if we’re exchanging gifts -” he gestures around the floor space he’d used for his spontaneous performance.

Patrick laughs and extricates himself from David’s embrace, standing up from the chair. “No, no, it’s not like that.” He reaches into his pocket.

David stands up with him, and looks down at what Patrick is holding out to him. There’s a shiny brass key on a keyring in the palm of his hand.

“Um,” David says. He has no idea what’s going on.

“I was going to give it to you the night of the barbecue,” Patrick says. “It was supposed to be kind of a surprise.”

David picks it up and dangles the key from the keyring. “It’s a key to…?”

Patrick grins. “I rented an apartment.” He tilts his head to indicate a direction. “Over on Second Street. Ray owns it. I finished moving in yesterday.”

David is almost speechless. Almost. “You rented an apartment,” he repeats slowly, the implications and possibilities emerging from the fog of confusion in his brain. Patrick has an apartment now.

“Mm-hmm,” Patrick nods. “And that is your key.” He taps the bit of brass still dangling from David’s fingers.

“My key… to your apartment…” David says, still processing. 

He has never had a key to someone else’s home before, outside of the odd plant-watering situation. It’s something that happens in real relationships, after all, and up to this point, David hasn’t had one of those. Now, holding the key in his hand, he realizes the solid step forward this symbolizes. He’d spent the last week wallowing in self-pity and doubt, wanting desperately to be with Patrick and at the same time wondering whether it was the end for them. Now, Patrick has his own private space, away from people and the rest of the world, and is offering David a key.

Patrick is beginning to look worried. “David?” he asks, sounding insecure. “Is this - too fast? I didn’t mean to -”

“I love my key!” David exclaims, pouncing on Patrick and wrapping him into a tight hug that almost knocks them over. “I love my key to your apartment.” He peppers kisses onto Patrick’s face and neck.

Patrick is laughing delightedly. “David - ow - I’m glad you like it - David!” he exclaims, bracing himself against the impact of the embrace.

Grinning, David steps back, keeping his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick grins back.

“Come over,” he says, pulling on David’s waist. “Have dinner with me.”

“Yes.” David pulls his phone from his pocket. “Dinner is on me. Pizza or Chinese?”

“Chinese,” Patrick decides.

David starts tapping a number into his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a "Burning House" cover by a male near Noah's vocal range: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0oPWgckdU34
> 
> P.S. the next chapter will be a good one, promise ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Patrick’s apartment is adorable. It’s in a small building that’s clearly many decades old, but has been refinished and renovated on the inside. It’s a two-bedroom with a small galley kitchen, hardwood floors, a fireplace, and the original wooden windows and moldings. It had come tastefully furnished, and since Patrick already had so little, the apartment is as minimally decorated as it would probably ever be. The only thing hanging on the wall is a Blue Jays poster. David makes a mental note to find some art to accompany it, if only to relieve the place of the objectionable bachelor-pad ambience. 

He looks around, smiling. He was sitting on the couch, his bare feet tucked under him. The half-finished orange chicken dinners are in their boxes on the coffee table. He can hear glasses clinking as Patrick pours them drinks in the kitchen.

Leaning back, he takes a deep breath. The apartment is old enough that the hardwood floors have aged to a lovely patina, and the smell of wood and wool from the braided rug on the floor intermingle in the air. David loves the difference scents that various species of wood emit. Cedar is his favorite, but spruce and poplar are close runners-up. He guesses the floors and woodwork in the apartment are maple, the same as in the store. It was probably the popular building wood of choice at the time both buildings were constructed.

Patrick emerges from the kitchen carrying a glass of whiskey in each hand. He smiles at David’s perusal of his space. “I take it you approve?” he asks, setting one of the glasses down on the coffee table in front of them and handing off the other to David. He sits next to David and leans back, resting an arm on the back of the couch. 

“Mm,” David confirms, picking up his glass and sipping. “It’s surprisingly sophisticated.”

“Surprised at my good taste?” Patrick quips. David smiles at the memory of the last time he’s used the line.

“Mostly?” David says honestly. “I’m just relieved you managed to find it.” He had been growing tired of their lack of privacy.

Patrick laughs. “Me too,” he says, reaching for his whiskey and tasting it. “Ray’s a good guy, but man, was I ready to get out of his place.”

“Yeah,” David says, placing his glass on the coffee table and sliding closer to Patrick on the couch. “Now we can do things like this -” he leans in and places a kiss on Patrick’s neck “- without getting caught.”

The stuttering way Patrick sighs is quite possibly the sexiest thing David has ever heard. He doesn’t continue, though. While he wants Patrick very much, he’s not sure they’re on footing quite solid enough to resume their physical relationship immediately after they’ve made amends. He leans back against the couch cushions and studies Patrick’s face.

And is immediately overtaken by Patrick as he drops his glass onto the table and climbs into David’s lap. Patrick kisses him, straddling his waist, cupping his head with one hand and wrapping his other arm around David’s shoulders. David finds himself very suddenly pressed against Patrick’s entire upper body, their chests and stomachs aligned, David’s now emerging erection very obviously flush against Patrick’s crotch.

Patrick breaks away after a few moments, breathing heavily. “I promise I didn’t ask you here tonight to seduce you,” he gasps into David’s ear.

“Just so we’re clear,” David retorts, continuing his kisses down Patrick’s neck to where his button-up is open to the third button, “I’m seducing you right now.” He frees the button, splays the shirt open, and presses a sensual, open-mouthed kiss over Patrick’s heart. 

Patrick gives an aroused laugh. “Jesus, David,” he says desperately. “I missed you so much.” He ducks back down for a kiss.

Their kisses grow desperate and heated, rising to a feverish pitch. David pulls the rest of Patrick’s shirt buttons apart, tugging it from his pants and pulling it down off of his arms. Once he has Patrick suitably bare-chested, he runs his hands over his chest, shoulders, and back, reveling in the feel of his lover’s bare skin. It was a feeling he’d craved during their short separation. He slides his hands further down to cup Patrick’s ass through his jeans and squeeze lightly.

Patrick stops kissing him momentarily, but it’s just to pull David’s sweater and t-shirt off. It falls to the floor, and Patrick kisses his way across David’s shoulder and collarbone to the hollow in his throat. 

David clears his throat. “I want to thank you for inviting me into your lovely home,” he murmurs as Patrick is sucking at the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“Don’t you _dare_ leave right now,” Patrick growls.

The timbre of Patrick’s voice sends a shuddering wave of arousal straight to his groin. “Not a chance,” David assures him. “I was just - ahh -” Patrick’s fingers play over his nipples “- wondering if you’d like to give me a tour.” He exhales as Patrick strokes his stomach, following the trail of dark hair down to his waistband. “Of your bedroom.”

Patrick is out of his lap and on his feet in an instant, pulling David up with him. “This way,” he says breathlessly. David admires his erection straining through his jeans, then admires his backside as Patrick turns and pads barefoot down the short hallway into one of the two bedrooms. He flips on a light and turns back to David, who immediately re-initiates their embrace, pulling Patrick to him for a kiss as he presses their bodies together.

Their most recent intimate encounter had been just shy of two weeks ago, but to David, it’s felt like an eternity. Intimacy, both emotional and physical, is something David is realizing he desperately wants on a very regular basis. Specifically, emotional and physical intimacy with Patrick is something he’d like to be a regular installment in his day-to-day. Maybe he’ll get a desk calendar and pencil it in. Kiss Patrick. Hug Patrick. Have sex with Patrick.

David has had a fair amount of physical intimacy over his thirty-four years, but none of it has held a candle to the warm, affectionate encounters he’s shared with Patrick in the past four months. David isn’t quite sure how to reconcile this with his aloof, avoidant self-identity, except to admit to himself that maybe he should try to make this relationship with Patrick work, and make it work for as long as possible.

David wants him. He wants him in every possible way. Patrick’s hands are currently unbuckling David’s belt, undoing his jeans, pushing them down over his hips along with his underwear. David is overwhelmed with the arousal brought forth by Patrick’s hands on the bare skin of his ass, and he’s just able to choke out, “I want -” before gasping as Patrick’s fingers brush ever-so-gently over his erection.

“Anything,” Patrick breathes, now working on removing his own clothing. “Anything you want.”

David is trembling with the implications of what he’s about to ask. “I want you inside me,” he whispers.

Patrick steps out of his pants and tosses them aside, then reaches up and cups David’s face, looking at him. “You want me to fuck you?” he asks.

Any worries David has about Patrick objecting to that particular act are out the window. The look on Patrick’s face is absolutely primal with need. His hazel eyes have darkened to a chocolate hue, and he’s assumed the particular stance of a male lion in heat. 

“Yes,” David whispers. Patrick’s arms slip around his waist and draw him closer. “Please,” he adds politely as Patrick lays kisses up and down his neck.

“I want to hear you say it,” Patrick murmurs huskily in his ear, and David positively shivers. He clings to Patrick’s shoulders.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, his voice breaking with arousal, and he’s not even ashamed of how needy he sounds.

Patrick’s resolute gaze nearly undoes him. David realizes he’s never needed anyone more in his life.

Patrick kisses him, a deep, slow kiss that makes David’s toes curl, and when they break apart David is gasping. Patrick motions to the bed and David scrambles over the bedspread, scooting back towards the pillows and propping himself up on his elbows. He’s fully hard, and he grasps his cock and squeezes a little. Patrick follows on his knees, pausing only to tug the bedside drawer open to retrieve lube and a condom, which he drops next to them on the bed.

He sits on his heels between David’s legs, hands on his knees, and looks down at David. His expression is one of a person who has starved their whole lives and is now being presented with a feast. There’s no trace of the insecurity or second-guessing from their previous encounters. David lies under his gaze and squeezes himself, panting with anticipation as Patrick touches him, sliding his hands down David’s thighs, over his hips, and up to his erection, replacing David’s hand with his own. He uses the other hand to lift David’s legs up to his chest and David catches them, holding his knees up and legs spread open, presenting every intimate inch of himself. He should be embarrassed, should feel exposed, vulnerable, but he doesn’t. Opening up to Patrick is the most natural thing in the world to David.

Patrick reaches for the lube. “Just keep talking to me,” he murmurs, squeezing some onto his fingers. 

He slicks up David’s cock first, slowly working David into a frenzy. David goes from aroused to aching to desperate in the span of a few minutes, in which Patrick demonstrates just how much he’s learned about getting David as worked up as possible. Patrick looks up questioningly, his fingers slick with more lube, and presses against David’s opening.

David nods vigorously. “Yes,” he says, and Patrick slides his fingers in.

David has had more practice with this particular activity than Patrick, and adjusts to two fingers almost immediately. Patrick adds a third and twists his hand, working him open slowly, until David has to breathe deeply and grip the bedspread to keep from keening with pleasure.

“You,” he says desperately. “Please. You.”

Patrick looks him in the eye. He slows the thrusting of his fingers to a maddening pace, reaching for the condom he’d torn open. “Tell me what you want,” he says again, and David is honestly concerned he’ll come just from the sound of Patrick’s voice.

“Fuck me,” he begs. “Patrick, fuck me, please.”

Patrick has rolled the condom on and slicked up his cock before David has all the words out, and by the time he does, Patrick is aligning his cock with David’s opening and pressing inside his entrance. He moves slowly, carefully, watching David’s face.

David cannot remember a moment in his life more perfect than the one in which Patrick’s cock is filling him. He’s still holding his knees, keeping his legs spread, and as Patrick breaches the first tight ring of muscles, he curls up his hips to welcome him further inside. Patrick is gasping and swearing, his hands gripping David’s thighs so tight they’ll be bruised in the morning, and David is delighted at that thought. “Deeper,” David encourages him. “I want all of you.” He does.

Patrick is shaking, and David imagines he’s making an effort not to slam his hips into David. “Fuck, David,” he groans. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” David replies earnestly. “Do that.” He’s touched by Patrick’s concern for his comfort, but would like very much to take all of him.

He lifts his hips one more time off the bed and Patrick moans as he slides home, his hips flush with David’s ass, and David’s eyes roll back in pleasure as he’s filled completely. His knees come up to grasp Patrick’s back and he slides his hands down to grip Patrick’s ass, using the leverage to try to spur him into moving.

Patrick is still trembling. “Are you good?” he chokes out.

“Yes, Patrick, _fuck me_ ,” David begs shamelessly, and Patrick pulls his hips back and slowly advances again, burying himself to the hilt.

David groans in time with each stroke of Patrick’s cock. Patrick is aiming exactly where he needs it, brushing against that spot and groaning with pleasure as David’s muscles clench and unclench around him. In minutes David is gasping for air, aching for more intensity, and he reaches between their bodies to grasp his own erection -

\- and Patrick catches his hand before he can touch himself, locks his fingers around David’s wrist, and holds it over his head, doing so with the other hand too, so David’s arms are pinned to the pillow above him and David can’t touch himself and he’s never been so fucking turned on in his life.

Patrick is murmuring in his ear, reducing the pace his thrusts to a maddening crawl. “I don’t want you to finish yet,” he says hoarsely, and David shakes his head in agreement. He doesn’t want to finish yet either. He doesn’t want to stop being this acutely aware of every inch of Patrick’s cock moving in and out of his body. 

Patrick kisses David softly. “I like fucking you in my bed,” Patrick continues, his tone the perfect combination of sex-laden teasing and tenderness.

“Mm-hmm,” says David, nodding quickly. He likes Patrick fucking him in his bed. He likes it very, very much. David realizes in a haze that he’s utterly ruined for anyone else. There is no chance he’ll want another person for the rest of his life, and that’s a sensation he’d never thought he’d have. He belongs to Patrick now, and in his frenzied, aroused state, he realizes - or maybe just desperately hopes - that’s been Patrick’s goal all along. 

His cock is aching. Patrick is being careful to keep his body elevated just enough that David’s erection receives no attention. No matter. He thinks hearing more of Patrick’s words might make him come all on its own. If he had known Patrick’s dirty talk was this insanely hot, he’d have insisted they do this long ago.

Patrick keeps talking. “Do you like it?” he asks, kissing David again, and his kisses are too sweet, too tender to accompany the obscene debauchery they’re currently partaking, and David loves it.

“Yes,” David says desperately as they break apart. “I like it when you fuck me.” His ass clenches pleasurably around Patrick as he slowly brushes his prostate again, and it’s the most wonderfully exquisite torture David has ever been subjected to.

His desperation grows. “Patrick, please,” he begs.

Patrick uses the leverage he has holding David’s arms above his head to push himself up, increasing the pace of his thrusts. “Tell me how to make you come,” he gasps, snapping his hips against David, aiming in exactly the right spot.

All David wants is to come with Patrick inside him. “Right there,” he moans, spreading his legs and lifting his hips like a whore, giving Patrick complete and total access to him. “As hard as you can,” David adds, and then he’s delightedly taking all of him as Patrick buries himself to the hilt over and over again.

David loses any semblance of self-control as Patrick fucks him senseless. His prostate absorbs the impact of each thrust as Patrick pounds against his hips, and David abandons all remaining pretense and cries out in pleasure as he rides the cusp of orgasm, the simmering tension ready to snap. He takes a few more thrusts before his body finally, finally gives in to release, his abdomen quaking and clenching with blinding bursts of pleasure as he comes in hot liquid spurts all over his chest, his cock untouched. Between David’s legs, Patrick is shuddering and moaning, no longer holding David’s hands above his head, and David gathers him in his arms as he collapses and holds him through his own orgasm, reveling in the sensation of Patrick’s cock pulsing inside of him, until both of them are sated and still.

They lie together, breathing heavily for several moments, David drawing lazy patterns on the Patrick’s back. Patrick extricates himself gently from David’s body, but remains lying on top of him. David feels the overwhelming need to speak his mind.

“So that was the best sex I’ve ever had,” he says conversationally. “Like, by far.” It’s the absolute truth.

He feels Patrick smile against his neck. “Same.”

David isn’t surprised by that, at least. Given Patrick’s very recent realization of his sexuality, David imagines his previous experiences were less than satisfying. David is, however, a bit surprised that he himself is chalking his ‘best sex ever’ up to an encounter with a man who has previously never slept with men. David had always assumed that the more experienced someone is, the better they would be in bed, and yet Patrick, the gay sex virgin, has blown all David’s previous encounters out of the water.

“We should do it again sometime,” David suggests. He means it.

“Mmm.” Patrick lifts his head to look at him. “We can, now that I have this place.” He props his head up, leaning on his elbow and looking at David. “We could do all sorts of things, come to think of it.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes,” David says, grinning.

“And you have a key.”

“Yes.” David wriggles a little at the warmth unfurling inside him at the thought of his key.

They lie together for a moment more before Patrick goes to wash up. He brings a washcloth from the bathroom for David. 

David has to ask. “So you really liked it?” he says tentatively as Patrick tosses their washcloths in the hamper.

Patrick looks directly at him. “I loved it,” he says, grinning, crawling back into bed with David and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I think my gay card is pretty well punched at this point.”

David laughs. 

Patrick is winding his arms around him under the covers. “Stay the night?” he asks sleepily.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” David assures him, his eyes already closed.

Patrick drifts off first, head on David’s shoulder, and David lies awake for a few minutes longer, listening to his slow breathing. He smiles. David can’t wait to wake up next to Patrick. He’d really like to make a habit of it.


	7. Chapter 7

David hates Singles Week.

Okay, so it’s a great opportunity for Alexis, and she seems to be doing well with it. And okay, it’ll increase foot traffic in their store. And maybe it’ll get his mom out of the motel room, which she appreciates. 

But if he had known it would involve him carrying around boxes, he would have nixed the idea the moment he’d heard it.

He’s lugging the box of dog sweaters Alexis had pushed off onto him down the street. They’re for Ted, who’s looking after the dogs that will be involved in the humane society charity event later. Alexis didn’t want to see Ted, she’d said. It would be too awkward, she’d said. She’d told him she loved him, she’d said.

David rolled his eyes. As much as he cared for his sister, he had to admit that confessing her feelings for Ted had not been at the top of her list of great ideas. In fact, since her great idea list was so short - probably roughly one item long - he thinks telling Ted how she felt probably didn’t even make it on the list. Dumping your feelings on someone is never a good idea, in his opinion, and when that person is in a relationship with someone else, it falls under the ‘bad idea’ category.

“What you’re doing is very brave,” Patrick is saying, taking David by the shoulders.

“Mm-hm,” David agrees, nodding.

“- and very generous, okay?”

Damn straight, David thinks.

“And I don’t want to add any more stress to your day, but I love you.” 

The words fall heavily onto his heart, and David, already strung tight, now feels so fragile he’s afraid he’ll break.

After David confirms that Patrick actually said that, Patrick, being his kind and generous self, assures David that he doesn’t expect immediate reciprocity.

“You’re my Mariah Carey,” Patrick continues.

David is in pieces.

Up to this point in his life, he hasn’t conceived of a world in which any person he cares for says these things to him. He doesn’t have any experience with feeling the need he was currently feeling, nor does he have precedent for how to react to Patrick’s openness about his own feelings. Patrick’s words are a physical force, and David moves backwards, as if putting space between them will give David the necessary distance to buffer the effects of his confession. It doesn’t.

David doesn’t know what to do, so he does the only thing he can think of. He thanks Patrick for all the wonderful things he’d said - thanking Patrick is something he does very well, after all - grabs the box of dog sweaters, and runs. 

*************************************

He’s not in the mood to interact with Ted right now. Really, really not.

He hasn’t made it halfway down the sidewalk before the guilt settles in. He, more than anyone, knows how it feels when feelings are unrequited, and leaving Patrick like that, after he’d said those wonderful, amazing things to David, was the wrong thing to do, David realizes. At the very least, he should have given him a good-bye kiss.

 _Or you could have told him you love him back,_ pushy inner-voice David says.

David is sure about two things: first, that he has never been in love before - not even close, not even a little - and second, that he is actually very much in love with Patrick. In retrospect, David realizes, there has never been a danger of him _not_ falling in love with Patrick. It’s always been a sure thing, and that David loves Patrick isn’t what’s currently frightening David beyond all reason.

It’s that Patrick loves him that David is finding difficult to reconcile with his worldview. It’s not that David is surprised. Patrick has always been open with his affection for David. It’s just that David is so very bad at accepting love from others, at being vulnerable to the people who matter to him the most, and Patrick matters to him more than anyone else in the world. Running away had been almost instinctual to David, considering that Patrick had admitted his feelings rather unexpectedly.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting it _today_.

“Ugh,” David says out loud as he trudges down the sidewalk towards the veterinary clinic. He’s very regretful, and not a little angry at himself. He hopes Patrick will forgive him. He’d been caught off guard, and he knows his reaction wasn’t the one Patrick had hoped for.

He creeps as quietly as possible into the vet clinic. The waiting room is empty, and David is hopeful that maybe he can just leave the box of dog sweaters and escape before anyone notices him. Maybe Ted isn’t even in today. He sets the box on the counter and starts to tiptoe out.

“David?”

Fuck.

Ted pops up from behind the counter. They greet each other as awkwardly as two people with a large elephant between them will.

“She told you, didn’t she?” Ted says forlornly, sitting on a bench and slumping forawrd.

“Yes,” David admits reluctantly. “She told me.” 

He doesn’t know why Ted feels the need to explain himself. As far as David can tell, he didn’t do anything wrong. Still, he watches the young man stammer through his confused reaction to Alexis and feels empathy for him. Really. It wasn’t fifteen minutes ago that David had been in a similar situation.

 _Except you are in love with Patrick,_ the annoying inner voice says. David bids the voice to kindly shut up.

“I broke up with Heather,” Ted says suddenly.

God _dammit_.

“So I should probably stay for a minute, then,” David sighs, taking a seat next to Ted.

It’s not that David doesn’t like Ted. He does. It’s not that David doesn’t care about the situation. It involves his sister, so on some level he actually does care about how this all turns out. David just isn’t sure what to do now that he’s directly involved in what had transpired between Ted and Alexis last week. Having Alexis confide in him has been emotionally exhausting enough, and she is his sister. Now Ted wants his ear, and David doesn’t know if he has it in him to provide exactly what Ted needs right now. Emotional availability has never been his forte, and what with he and Patrick’s interaction earlier, he’s feeling overdrawn.

But Ted looks so broken, and David is human.

“Look,” he says. “I would hardly call myself an expert on this subject - and by subject, I mean genuine human emotion - so I’m just going to tell you what I know, and you can do whatever you want with that.”

Ted nods.

David tries to be honest with Ted, finding the most genuine words he can that relate to this situation. “You’ve been burned a few times,” he continues. “Have we met? I’ve been burned so many times I’m basically the human equivalent of the inside of a roasted marshmallow.”

But even as David says the words, even as he tries to cling to his well-established identity as an oft-scorned lover and lone wolf, they ring false. Something inside him tugs him towards optimism, and not knowing what else to say, he speaks to that instead.

“I just think it’s important for us to remember that sometimes it does work out,” he says, his voice breaking with a surprising amount of emotion. In the moment he says it, he realizes how much he believes it, and how much he _wants_ to believe it.

“Even though everything inside us is telling us to protect ourselves,” he continues, feeling his throat tighten, “when you’ve got it, don’t let it go.”

David’s heart is beating a little faster, and the sensation that he needs to fix a very big mistake overtakes him. He pictures Patrick’s face as David thanks him - _thanking him? What the fuck were you thinking?_ \- and walks out the door of the store.

Understanding has landed, and David has to leave Ted’s.

*************************************

David strides towards the store with more certainty and conviction than he’s ever felt in his life, and not a small amount of urgency.

Don’t let it go, he repeats in his head like a mantra. Don’t let it go. Don’t let it go. 

Best advice he’s ever given anyone, probably.

He’s only vaguely aware of the tears welling in his eyes.

Propelled by his understanding of something he’s finally starting to decode, and by total knowledge of what awaits him at his destination, David strides forward. He recalls something he’d told Patrick weeks ago. In a moment that was heart-wrenching in a different way, he’d confessed the state of his soul. “My truth,” he’d said, “is that I am damaged goods.” He’d meant it at the time. His heart, he thought, had been broken so many times it was beyond repair.

Except it isn’t. David is not damaged goods. That is no longer his truth. David is whole. He has been for a while now, and he’s managed it for exactly one person.

The bell jingles as he pushes the door open. Patrick comes around the counter to greet him, saying something that validates yet another of David’s savvy purchasing decisions. David absentmindedly accepts the compliment with a wave of his hand, his mind focused on his singular mission.

“How’d it go with Ted?” Patrick asks, head tilting in inquiry. As if that’s important.

David wraps his arms around him and kisses him as if his life depends on it. 

They break apart.

“I love you,” David says, and the words flow out of him unencumbered. He takes a deep breath.

Patrick doesn’t say anything for a moment. He doesn’t have to. The look on his face is enough to finish the task he’d begun the moment David had first spoken to him in Ray’s office last year. David’s shield, the one made of regrets and broken promises, of cheating and lies, is gone. He doesn’t have any of those things left to build walls. He can’t be guarded anymore.

He’s laid bare, and he thinks it’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever felt.

Even if he did forget the tea.

*************************************

David brings the tea from the cafe back to the store, where Patrick is sitting on the front counter waiting for him. 

“Are you crying?” Patrick asks, alarmed. He takes the tea and sets it aside before wrapping David up in his arms.

David nods, burying his face in Patrick’s neck. “Um, there’s just a lot that’s been happening today, like with everyone, and I’m not good enough at feeling genuine human emotion to effectively process it.” He presses a kiss to Patrick’s lips before recounting what he’d witnessed at the cafe with Alexis and Ted.

Patrick gives a low whistle. “Wow,” he says. “Today’s the day for grand romantic gestures, huh?”

David sniffles a little and samples Patrick’s tea. “I don’t really know anything about romance, so,” he says, shrugging.

“Of course you don’t,” Patrick says, grinning. He leans in for another kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is identical to the final chapter of "Light-Bulb Moment" because I wanted to combine POVs to symbolize the events in this chapter. It's experimental, but I hope you like it.

It’s the little things, David is realizing, that made him fall in love with Patrick.

Granted, it is the first time in his life that he’s had a partner that actually did the little things. Previously, his relationships - if you could call them that - had burned hot and fast, igniting in passionate bursts, attraction and desire fueling the flames, before dying in unceremonious arguments or flickering into cold indifference. He’d say he regretted those relationships, except that he hadn’t felt strongly enough about them for their endings to generate any amount of regret.

Now, these pointed little gestures resonate more than any of the times he’s been swept off his feet. It’s the caramel macchiatos made exactly to his liking, and remembering how he likes his burgers cooked. It’s the tickets to his favorite romantic comedies, and serenading him with his favorite songs. It’s the frame on the wall displaying the store’s first sales receipt. It’s amazing, really. David has never considered himself a romantic, but he has to admit to himself now that romantic is all he’s ever been.

David has always been known for grand gestures, but being in love has grounded him more than he ever thought possible. 

For Patrick, it’s the intrigue and romance David brings to his life every day since the very moment they’d met that has ensnared Patrick’s heart to the point of no return.

Patrick, ever the unruffled stalwart, isn’t taken by surprise very easily or very often. He’d moved to Schitt’s Creek amidst the settling dust of his only real long-term relationship. That relationship had been stable and predictable in itself, but had been conspicuously missing elements of passion and synchronicity Patrick had never known he needed. In moving here to escape something, he’d unwittingly run straight to David Rose.

Recovering from his initial surprise at his desire to pursue David had, in retrospect, been easy, and Patrick is consistently pleased at how David continues to surprise him. Patrick would never have guessed he’d pair well with someone as creative and mercurial as David, yet the passion that ensues as a result of their pairing is more enticing to Patrick than anything he’s ever felt before.

David walks into the store on New Year’s Eve, wrapped in his wool parka. Patrick is there waiting for him with a caramel macchiato whilst poring through a spreadsheet of their monthly transactions. “Welcome back,” he says cheerfully, glancing up to smile at David before looking back down at the laptop perched on the edge of the counter. David thinks they must be doing well, if Patrick looks that happy about the numbers.

“Ready for open mic night tonight?” David asks. It’s to be their fourth, and by the looks of it, the most popular one yet. Holding it on New Year’s Eve was a way to get people in the performing mood, apparently.

Patrick looks up at him and grins. “You bet,” he says. “Got my song all figured out.” He’s careful not to betray the butterflies in his stomach.

David is curious. “What are you singing?” he asks, going around the counter to stand behind Patrick and rub his shoulders.

Patrick turns his head to peck David on the lips. “It’s a surprise,” he says mysteriously.

David whines a little. “I hate surprises,” he says.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “You love surprises,” he retorts. It’s true. “Anyway, you still have to go pick up the extra tote bags. We’re almost out”

“Uugh,” David moans. “Fine.” He picks up the macchiato. “I’m taking this with me, though.”

Patrick waves him off, grinning.

******************************  
By the time David gets back to the store, it’s filled with people and the lights are already dimmed. Alexis is helping by selling drink tickets at the door. “David!” she chirps happily as she holds the door open for him. “There’s so many people signed up tonight. I can’t wait to hear Ronnie’s show tunes.”

David cringes. “God, I hope there’s a little more variety than that.” He lugs the box of shopping bags inside and nods at Ted, who is at Alexis’s elbow with the cash box. 

Patrick, on the performance floor in the corner, is tuning his guitar and tapping experimentally on the microphone. “Thanks for coming, everyone,” he says congenially into the mic, addressing the room at large. “I’m gonna get us started in just a few minutes.” There’s a smattering of applause as he plucks the strings on his guitar a few more times. He’s opened each one of their open mic nights, and he’s proud of his local reputation as a fairly talented, very adorable singer-songwriter. They owe at least part of their open-mic-night success to his local fans.

Johnny and Moira are in attendance as well, sitting in chairs near front windows. David studies his parents for a moment. They’re sitting close, hands clasped, talking quietly with one another, and David grins a little. Not that he’ll ever admit it, but his parents are pretty much relationship goals.

Goals which, as David considers it, he’s pretty sure he’s damn close to achieving. He turns to look over at his own beau, who is oblivious to the fact that David is admiring him from across the room. The dim lighting is warm on Patrick’s face and brings out gold flecks in his hair. David’s stomach twists pleasantly as he takes in Patrick’s features. He makes a mental note that he’d like to make love to Patrick tonight, if they can manage it after they close and make it home.

Patrick plays a few chords into the mic and the murmuring crowd gradually quiets as he strums out the intro. He doesn’t think anyone notices his hands trembling.

He stops, abruptly, looking across the room at David. “By the way, David, I poured a glass of champagne for you.” He points in David’s direction.

David grins and turns to look behind him as the audience members laugh softly at the non-sequitur. Stevie, who has manned the alcohol table, is pushing a champagne flute towards him across the counter, and David snags it as Patrick starts his intro again.

Patrick steps forward and starts singing the song he’d chosen. He’d been practicing during every spare moment he’d had without David around, and tonight he closes his eyes, the lyrics propelled by his feelings.

_“I'm running out of ways to make you see_  
_I want you to stay here beside me_  
_I won't be ok and I won't pretend I am_  
_So just tell me today and take my hand_  
_Please take my hand”_

 

David takes another sip of his champagne. Something glints in the bottom of the flute. David frowns, peering down into the glass.

His heart stops as he realizes what it is. “Oh, my god,” he says out loud, his voice breaking. He looks back up at Patrick, who is still singing, smiling softly at him.

_“Just say yes, just say there's nothing holding you back_  
_It's not a test, nor a trick of the mind, only love_  
_Just say yes, 'cause I'm aching and I know you are too_  
_For the touch of your warm skin as I breathe you in_  
_I can feel your heart beat through my shirt_  
_This was all I wanted, all I want_  
_It's all I want”_

 

David thinks he might be hyperventilating. His hands are shaking and tears are welling up in his eyes. He thinks this can’t be happening to him, but obviously it is. It is. He looks at Alexis, who is smiling brightly at him with her hands clasped under her chin. Stevie is bouncing gently next to him, grinning, and from their seats, his parents are gazing at him warmly. 

David does the only thing he can think of, and tips the champagne flute slightly to reach in and retrieve the silver ring settled in the swell of the flute. He looks back up at Patrick as he’s holding the ring in his hand, and Patrick nods as broaches the final chorus.

_“Just say yes, just say there's nothing holding you back_  
_It's not a test, nor a trick of the mind, only love_  
_Just say yes, 'cause I'm aching and I know you are too_  
_For the touch of your warm skin, as I breathe you in”_

Patrick strums the last chord, never breaking eye contact with David. The crowd provides a smattering of applause, and Patrick says quickly into the microphone, “Excuse me everyone, but I need David to answer a very important question for me real quick.” His boyfriend looks like he might be having an aneurysm.

The crowd quiets as Patrick sets his guitar down and jogs across the room to David.

David is crying. Full-on tears, hiccups, and trying in vain to speak.

 

“Hey there,” Patrick says affectionately, cupping David’s face in his hands as he reaches him.

“Yes,” David gasps. “Yes. Yes.” He wraps his arms around Patrick and sobs into his neck.

Patrick embraces him, rubbing his back. “Just to be clear,” he murmurs in David’s ear, “you’re saying you’ll marry me, right?”

David laughs through his tears. “Yes!” he exclaims. 

Patrick pulls back to look at him, grinning, joy unfurling his chest. “Good. Just making sure.” He opens David’s hand and plucks the ring from it, slides it onto David’s finger, kisses him on the lips, then trots back to the mic area amidst a smattering of applause as their friends, family, and neighbors realize what’s transpired.

“Thanks everyone,” he says breathlessly as he reaches the mic. “I’m happy to say I’ve just gotten engaged -” the applause grows more boisterous amidst hoots and hollers “- and I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to share this with.”

Neither can David. As Patrick introduces the next performer, he smiles, and David smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an acoustic “Just Say Yes” cover that I like:  
> https://youtu.be/QT3aMgPtHR0?t=10


End file.
